


Wintersong

by Sxymami0909, xtremeroswellian



Series: Ghosts: The Lost Year [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Emotional pain, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Getting a Tattoo, Sad Lydia, Scott McCall is a Good Friend, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sxymami0909/pseuds/Sxymami0909, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Stiles, Isaac and Allison gone, Scott is attempting to bring what’s left of the pack together for Christmas, a holiday that no one is in the mood to celebrate after Allison’s death just a couple of weeks prior. Meanwhile Stiles is getting a permanent reminder of everything that happened, securing that his friends are looked after and taking a secret trip to meet up with one of the most important people to him for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wintersong

**December 18th**   
  
Stiles stood outside of the shop for a long time before reaching out and opening the door. He glanced around at the various designs tacked all over the walls, at the massive number of books with designs inside them waiting to be flipped through and chosen. It gave him an odd sense of nostalgia for the day that Scott had gotten his tattoo, even if it hadn’t worked in the end.   
  
He didn’t like needles, but Scott had asked him to come along anyway, because he’d wanted his best friend there when he got his first tattoo. He’d wanted Stiles’ support and he’d gone along without hesitation. Granted, he’d also passed out. His chest ached and he rubbed at it as he moved to sit in one of the chairs in the small waiting area. To say he was nervous was an understatement.   
  
He wished Scott was there. He shut his eyes, pushing the thought away. Scott was where he needed to be: back home, taking care of himself, and of the rest of the pack. What was left of it anyway. The urge to call and check in was strong, but he ignored that, too. A clean cut was best for everyone involved. Even if it wasn’t going to be entirely clean in a few days. But his dad was a different story.   
  
Stiles looked up when a tall thin man appeared. He looked the exact opposite of the man who’d tattooed Scott back in Beacon Hills. He was clean shaven, and he wasn’t covered in tattoos, though he spotted a small one on his arm.   
  
The man glanced at Stiles sending him half a grin. “I’m Tom, what can I do for you today?” He asked pausing in front of Stiles and motioning to the walls, “Looking for a design or do you have one in mind?” He asked studying the young man closely.   
  
He almost told Tom he’d made a mistake and he was going to need some time to think this through more than he had. Because he hadn’t really thought it through. Not when he’d drawn the design, and not when he’d hailed a cab and not now that he was sitting in the middle of a tattoo parlor in the middle of Van Nuys, California. But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a carefully folded up piece of paper, rising to his feet and holding it out to him. “I have one in mind.” His voice was quiet.   
  
Tom took the paper from the kid in front of him, unfolded it, and arched an eyebrow glancing away from the paper and back at the kid in front of him. “This is some pretty intricate work. Lots of details,” he paused, “It’s going to take time and money...and a large canvas depending on how detailed you want it.” He explained.   
  
“I have plenty of money and nothing but time,” he admitted. And a very professional looking fake ID that said he was 21, thanks to Marin Morrell. “Do you have time to do this now?”   
  
Tom nodded, “Yea, I’ve got some time, why don’t you come on back and I’ll get you settled in and we can start?” He replied motioning for him to follow him into the back room.   
  
Stiles drew in a breath and let it out slowly as he followed the guy down the hall toward the back room. His entire body was tense and he was still so tired that it was a struggle to stay conscious for more than eight hours at a time. He was hesitant to shed all his warm layers of clothes even if he knew he was going to have to in order to do this. And he _needed_ to do this.   
  
Tom watched the kid for a minute as he divested his layers before placing the picture down on a small metal table and getting things ready. “What’s your name?” He asked over his shoulder.   
  
He glanced at Tom as he sat down on the table, long legs dangling over the side of it. “Stiles,” he answered, waiting for the inevitable _that’s a weird name_ remark. It didn’t seem to matter as much as it had once though. Not much really did.   
  
“Interesting name,” Tom commented as he hooked the round tip needle into the machine. “There a story behind it?” He asked as he sat on the stool while pouring the ink into the small tube.   
  
“It’s just a nickname,” he admitted. “Real one’s basically impossible to pronounce and no one knows it except my dad and a couple of others.” Namely Scott and Melissa McCall. He watched with a hint of anxiety as Tom poured ink into the machine attached to the very sharp needle. _Do not pass out._   
  
Tom nodded at his explanation and then caught Stiles eyeing the two coil tattoo machine and he lifted a brow in question, “Nervous?” He inquired.   
  
“Completely. But that’s normal right?” He hoped that was normal. Scott hadn’t been nervous. Then again Scott wasn’t exactly normal himself.   
  
Tom chuckled, “Sometimes,” he admitted as he glanced at Stiles. “So, where are we putting this?”   
  
He eyed the machine warily and drew in a breath, shifting back on the table. “Back and right shoulder blade,” he told him, chewing his lower lip. He could practically hear Scott’s voice telling him he could change his mind and get the hell out of there. He shifted again, lying down on his stomach and using his clothes as a pillow.   
  
Tom nodded and put the tattoo machine down once the liquid had filled the tube. “I need to draw it out before I use the needle,” he explained grabbing a felt tip marker and moving closer to Stiles. “Once I draw it out I’m going to move you over to the chair,” he pointed to the chair near the corner that looked similar to a chair you’d see in a massage parlor.   
  
“You’ll be on your stomach for a while, face in the hole. It’ll be easier to do it that way,” Tom explained as he placed the design beside Stiles and started to draw it out carefully starting with his shoulder.   
  
Right. Draw it out. That made sense. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly as he felt the pen being drawn lightly over his skin. He looked over at the chair, wondering if he’d be able to stay sitting up if he _did_ pass out. “So uh, out of curiosity, how many people have passed out getting tattoos?” The question was completely for scientific purposes.   
  
Tom smirked, “More than you might think.” He answered simply. He wasn’t a man of many words.   
  
That was both comforting and the exact opposite. Stiles fell silent as the man drew a replica of his design -- well. Partially his design. The tree part of the design was actually Lydia’s drawing. The rest was his own. All too soon he was moving over to sit in the chair, gripping onto his knees tightly as he placed his face in the hole as instructed.   
  
“Just hold still. It’s going to take a while so if you need a break just let me know and we can stop,” He told Stiles as he sat on the stool and rolled it closer to the boy while turning on the tattoo machine. “I’m starting now,” he told him as he leaned forward ointment and a clean rag on the table by his side, the tip of the needle touching his skin before air rushed into the gun and he started moving across Stiles’ flesh.   
  
Stiles gritted his teeth, digging his fingernails into his legs as the needle pressed into him and holy shit, how did people do this more than once? He swallowed heavily and shut his eyes, forcing himself to stay absolutely still and reminding himself why he was there in the first place. _How do you think it felt when Scott and Allison were stabbed by swords? This is nothing compared to that,_ he thought.   
  
Tom felt Stiles tense, but he said nothing as he continued to map out the drawing on his back following the lines with the needle and brushing the cloth with ointment every so often against the parts that were already completed to collect the blood.   
  
By hour two, he’d broken into a cold sweat and he was really glad he hadn’t eaten anything for lunch because he was pretty sure he was going to end up dry heaving in the near future. His teeth were starting to chatter together from the stress, his jaw ached from trying not to let them chatter, and he’d dug his fingernails so deep into his palms that he’d drawn blood there, too. He was starting to think that he should have taken the Tylenol that people suggested before having this done, but he didn’t want to dull the pain. Not really. Not _this_ pain anyway.   
  
Tom paused, “I think it might be time for a break,” he commented sitting back in his seat and shutting the tattoo machine for a minute. He stretched out his back and glanced at the progress of the tattoo. “How you doing over there?”   
  
Stiles exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes shut for the time being and trying not to move even if they were taking a break. “I’m alive,” he said quietly. And that was more than he could say for Allison Argent.   
  
Tom found the comment odd, but said nothing and waited another minute before starting in again on the tattoo that was just over halfway completed.   
  
He felt hot tears stinging his eyes, but he kept them closed, ignoring them now the same way he did every morning when he woke up. He pictured Lydia’s face the day of Allison’s funeral. The utter despair and devastation. The guilt on Scott’s face.   
  
So he bore the pain because he needed it. Because it was what he deserved. It was a lot less than he deserved, but he was too weak to go through with anything worse. Anything more permanent. If the people he loved the most had to suffer because of him, the least he could do was suffer along with them as much as possible.   
  
He owed them that much.   


______

  
  
**December 23**   
  
Scott made his way into the house, depositing his book bag on the sofa and slipping his shoes off before heading for the kitchen. He could smell his mom’s famous meatloaf cooking in the oven and his stomach growled as he sniffed and found her at the counter, chopping vegetables for a salad. “I’m home,” he said needlessly. He’d basically been coming straight home every day after school to at least check in with her if she was around, before taking off and going anywhere else.   
  
Melissa glanced over her shoulder at her son and smiled softly, “Hey sweetie, how was school?” She asked turning back to face the salad as she continued cutting up the cucumbers in front of her. She was glad that Scott came home every day now, at least for a little bit, though most of his time was spent at home or work anyway.   
  
“Quiet,” he said softly, shrugging and reaching out to grab a second knife to help her chop up vegetables. It was always quiet now, without Allison and Stiles and Lydia and Isaac. Lydia was still in Beacon Hills, but she hadn’t been in school since before Allison died and Stiles left and Isaac took off with Chris Argent to France for a few weeks. Kira sat with him in the classes they shared and she stuck by his side at lunch and he was so grateful to her for the distraction. It was the only thing that was keeping him sane with the loss of everyone else.   
  
Melissa’s chest tightened and she paused in her cutting to reach out to her son and rest a hand against his back. “That must be hard,” she said softly hating that her son was hurting and there was nothing she could do about it. “Have you talked to Lydia? And what about Kira? She’s got a few classes with you, right?” She inquired.   
  
“Lydia’s…” He was silent for a moment. “She doesn’t want to talk about things when I go see her. And that’s fine, but she’s not...really talking much about anything at all.” He sighed softly, chopping a carrot and dropping the pieces into a bowl. “But yeah, Kira and I have a few classes together.” He tried for a smile.   
  
Melissa squeezed her son’s shoulder and turned so she was facing him, the knife she was using a minute ago resting on the counter. “I’m glad Kira is there with you,” she told him. Melissa knew how hard not having Stiles around was for Scott and for Lydia. She was just glad Scott was still functioning even if it was only barely.   
  
She rubbed Scott’s shoulder for a minute before dropping her hand and resting it on the counter. “I was thinking, Christmas Eve is in a few days, it might be nice to get everyone together and have them over for dinner.” She suggested softly.   
  
His chest tightened and he didn’t look up at her. He didn’t want to think about Christmas this year at all. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I don’t -- I don’t think anyone’s gonna...really be up for that, Mom. Not this year.” He didn’t see the point in pretending there was anything to celebrate. “But maybe we should invite Sheriff Stilinski at least.” His voice was quiet, and he felt tears prickle at his eyes as he thought about his best friend out there, spending Christmas completely alone.   
  
It was going to be hard for all of them, but at least they had each other. Stiles didn’t have _anyone._ And he wasn’t going to let Stiles’ dad be alone.   
  
Melissa figured now would probably be a good time to tell her son about Michael. She had been worried about telling him, but she was hoping it would make him feel better now. “Sweetie,” she hesitated, “Michael left earlier today...he’s going to spend Christmas with Stiles.” She told Scott quietly. “And before you ask I don’t know where or how long Michael will be gone. But I do think it’s important for everyone to come over...no one should be alone sweetheart. None of you.”   
  
Scott’s gaze darted to his mom’s face, eyes widening a little in surprise. “He is?” He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. The relief that he felt was practically palpable and he rubbed a hand over his face, nodding. “Good. They should...they should definitely be together for Christmas.” Families should always be together at Christmas. He was silent for a few moments, considering her words. “I can try. I just...I don’t know that they’ll go for it, Mom.”   
  
Melissa relaxed at the relief she saw on her son’s face. She sent him half a smile. “Yes, they should and so should we.” She told him. “I know it’s not going to be easy to get everyone together, but, Scott, it’s something we should do. I know you miss them and I’m sure they’re having just as hard of a time as you are.” Melissa said quietly.   
  
“I know. I keep trying to...get everyone to talk, but…” He shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “I’m not good at this, Mom. I’m trying but I’m just…” _Failing spectacularly_ , he thought.   
  
Melissa shifted forward and pulled her son into a hug letting her hand brush against the back of his head. “Scott, you’re doing what you can. This is not your fault. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to help you fix this, whatever it takes. This does not only fall on you.” She told him matter-of-factly as she rubbed his back. Melissa knew he felt responsible because he was the alpha, but she also knew he had people left in Beacon Hills who cared about him.   
  
Isaac and Chris would be back eventually. And she knew Lydia cared for her son, Kira too and even Derek Hale did. Melissa was positive that if her son could help his friends, he’d feel at least marginally better, which would make the pain in her heart ease a bit.   
  
Scott buried his face against her shoulder, closing his eyes tightly as she spoke. He knew she meant what she said -- that she’d help him fix things. But he wasn’t sure if things could be fixed. Not really. Not with Allison dead and Stiles AWOL. How were they supposed to begin to come back from the loss of both of them?   
  
Melissa stayed like that with Scott in her arms for several minute trying to offer him whatever comfort she could. “Talk to me sweetheart, what’s going on through that head of yours?”   
  
He let out a breath before lifting his head up to look at her. “How do we bring them back from this, Mom? After Allison. After Stiles…”   
  
Melissa wished she had the answer to that question, it would make all their lives that much easier. “We take things one day at a time, like always.” She wished Isaac were back from France because she knew even though he wasn’t Stiles he would understand what Scott was going through on a level she couldn’t.   
  
She hesitated for a minute before speaking. “Maybe you should reach out to Derek, he’s been helpful in the past and...he’s your friend.” Plus he was older and she knew the stories of the Hale family. He’d dealt with tragedy in his life and he’d still managed to come out on the other side a decent person. Maybe he could help Scott work through his grief.   
  
He looked down, nodding. “Yeah. Okay,” he agreed quietly. Out of everyone in the pack, Derek was probably going to be the easiest to cajole into coming to Christmas Eve dinner. He was the one least affected by Allison’s death. By Stiles leaving.   
  
Melissa shifted back slightly and gripped her son’s cheeks. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with all of this. I wish,” she halted, “I just wish I could make this better for you. But I promise in time the pain will fade. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but eventually this will all be...manageable.”   
  
His eyes watered and he blinked rapidly to try and get rid of the unshed tears. “Yeah,” he murmured. He knew on some level that she was right. Death had never touched him this closely except for when Stiles’ mom had died when they were eight. It had taken Stiles years to begin coming to terms with it and he knew there was a lot of stuff his best friend still held onto, still kept buried and ignored. But he’d gotten on with his life. Until now anyway. “I know. I believe you.” He hugged her again.   
  
Melissa returned the hug holding Scott close. “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner? I’ll finish up here and then maybe if you’d like you can see if Kira wants to come over and eat with us. I’d love to get to know her a little better.”   
  
A flicker of warmth and love passed through him and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that, too. I’ll call her after I wash up.”   
  
Melissa smiled warmly and patted his cheek, “Good.” She said glad to see his expression lightening just a bit.   
  
Scott smiled a little and kissed her cheek before turning and heading for the stairs.   


______

  
  
Danny pulled open his drawer and grabbed a few shirts before turning back to his bed and placing them inside the large duffle bag that sat there. He’d gotten home from school just over an hour ago and he was just now starting to pack. He was heading out of Beacon Hills for the holidays with his family and they were leaving in a few hours. He glanced over at the clock and groaned as he picked up the pace and started grabbing more clothes.   
  
Danny was in the process of grabbing his boxers when a series of chimes sounded from his computer. He glanced over his shoulder and froze when he saw the light blue screen of his skype account and a small white phone moving with the name Stiles above it.   
  
What in the world...he hesitated for a second before stepping forward, gripping the back of his chair and sitting down slowly. Why was Stiles calling _him_? Danny had been at Allison’s funeral. He’d seen everyone including Jackson and after the wake rumors had spread like wildfire when Stiles left town. He knew for a fact that Scott hadn’t had any contact with him, because they talked in school and he knew Lydia hadn’t either because the redhead hadn’t been to school since before Allison died.   
  
Danny pursed his lips for a second before pressed the key and accepting the call. The screen light up, Stiles’ face filling the monitor. Danny blinked once, twice, “Stiles...Hi?”   
  
He hadn’t been sure that Danny would even be around yet, or that he’d accept Stiles’ call. It wasn’t like they’d ever been friends. Half the time Stiles was pretty sure he got on Danny’s nerves. But there was no one else who could do what Stiles needed done. There was no one else who might understand on some level what was going on once he explained things.   
  
He gave the other teen a faint smile, trying to keep his back and shoulder straight because as it turned out? Getting a huge tattoo that covered half your back and shoulder hurt a lot even a day later. Moving _hurt_. “Hey,” he greeted after a moment’s hesitation. “Uh, sorry. I know this is probably really weird, me calling you like this out of the blue.” Especially considering he knew the rumors had to be flying back home.   
  
Danny cocked his head to the side his eyebrow lifting as a short laugh fell from his lips, “Yeah, you could say that. Does Scott know you’re calling me? Have you spoken to him?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. It was random that Stiles had chosen to contact him and yet at the same time Danny had a feeling it wasn’t random at all.   
  
His chest tightened painfully and Stiles looked down immediately at the mention of Scott’s name, guilt sweeping over him. “No,” he admitted. “No, he doesn’t know and...no I haven’t talked to him.” His voice was quiet and he reached out, picking up his bottle of water and unscrewing the lid, taking a long drink before setting it back down. “How is he?”   
  
Danny watched Stiles for a minute, reading the guilt on his face clearly and he had to wonder what exactly was making him feel that guilt. Was it taking off after Allison died? And why had he done that anyway? I didn’t make much sense. He leaned forward catching Stiles’ gaze through the computer screen. “Scott’s doing as well as he can be doing by himself,” he admitted.   
  
Scott always looked so sad and lost walking around the hallways by himself. Sure the new girl Kira was with him a lot, but in gym, the guy just looked inconsolable.   
  
Stiles felt his stomach twist into a knot at that. It wasn’t unsurprising, but hearing it still hurt and he rubbed his fingers over the tiny indentations in his palms that he’d dug there himself the day before. He nodded silently, pained. “Do you have some time? There’s...some stuff that you should know,” he said after a long moment. “Stuff about Beacon Hills.”   
  
Danny’s brows drew together in confusion as he shifted in his seat resting his elbows on his desk, “I’ve got a little bit of time...what’s going on? What’s this all about?” He asked not sure why Stiles was being so mysterious.   
  
He let out a breath, looking at the computer screen in front of him. “This is probably going to make me sound like I’ve lost my mind, but I know you’re a smart guy and if you think about it and if you think about the things that have happened over the last year and a half...it’ll make sense.” He shifted slightly in his chair, wincing. “So uh...werewolves are real. And a lot of them live in Beacon Hills. The ones I know aren’t a danger to anyone, except…” He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Possibly the twins.”   
  
“Ethan would never hurt me,” was Danny’s automatic response despite the fact that he was having what felt like an outer body experience. Werewolves in Beacon Hills. It sounded ridiculous. Stiles sounded crazy. Werewolves were fictional creatures. They were plot devices in books and they were absolutely real.   
  
Danny wasn’t stupid. A lot of weird shit happened in Beacon Hills and Stiles of all people was finally giving him an explanation why. He’d always known there was something different about Ethan, especially after everything that happened at the Glen Capri Motel. He let out a long breath and glanced down for a second to pull himself together. “Werewolves,” he repeated, “Yeah...I can see that.” He said quietly.   
  
Stiles watched him closely, nodding at Danny’s easy acceptance of that. He hadn’t thought it would be that big of a leap considering some of the things that had happened. “Werewolves, kanimas, darachs, evil tree stumps and…” He paused. It was his turn to look down. “Evil fox spirits that take over your body and make you do pretty terrible things to people you love.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “The point is, there’s a lot of supernatural stuff that happens there that most people don’t have a clue about and...it’s dangerous. Really dangerous.” He looked back up, guilt on his face.   
  
Danny glanced up at Stiles’ words, his eyes widening slightly as realization crossed his face, “Is that what-I mean is that why you left?” He asked keeping his voice low, though not sure why. It wasn’t like anyone else could hear him in his room.   
  
“I left because Allison’s death --” He swallowed heavily and looked down for a moment. “All the chaos from the last few weeks. Coach. The sheriff’s station...that was all me,” he admitted. “I was possessed.”   
  
Danny leaned back in his seat and lifted his hand brushing it over his head. “That pretty much sucks,” he replied not entirely sure what else to say. He glanced back at the computer screen not quite able to tamper the curiosity inside of him. “So why tell me all of this? Why now?” Danny had a feeling there was more to it than just sharing the information.   
  
Stiles nodded slightly, knowing Danny had caught onto the fact that this was more than filling him in on things he should have known about a long time ago considering he was Jackson’s best friend and he was dating Ethan. “I need help,” he admitted quietly. “I’m not...I can’t come back.” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But there are people there that I still need to make sure are protected and...I need your help for that.” He reached over and picked up one of the small packages he’d bought. A tiny GPS bug. He held it up in front of his laptop’s webcam.   
  
“If I send these to you, do you think you can plant them for me?” He looked at Danny, arching his eyebrows. “I realize it’s a lot to ask, but...I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”   
  
Danny made a face and leaned in towards the computer again. “Are you kidding me?” He asked even though it was clear he wasn’t. “I don’t know man...I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing that.” He sighed at the look on Stiles’ face feeling a hint of sympathy for the other boy. “Who exactly do you want me to plant these on?” He asked entertaining the idea momentarily.   
  
He didn’t blame Danny for his hesitation in the least. It wasn’t exactly legal. “Scott, Lydia, and Melissa McCall.” He wasn’t going to ask Danny to bug his dad considering his dad was the sheriff. Besides, Stiles would be seeing him in a couple days anyway for Christmas. He’d do it himself then.   
  
Danny tapped his finger against the desk in a steady rhythm. “I can probably do Scott and if I find a time his mom is around or at the hospital I can probably do her, but Lydia might take a little while. I can’t guarantee that I can get to her.” Sure Danny could probably go to her house to check on her and then sneak into her garage or something and put it there or maybe in her cell phone. But he’d known Lydia for years and he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that.   
  
Stiles nodded, chewing his lower lip. “I’ll take it,” he said quietly. It wasn’t like he was in a position to do anything else at this point.   
  
Danny nodded watching as Stiles chewing on his lip. He was nervous and Danny didn’t blame him. It was no secret how close he was to Scott or how much he cared about Lydia. “I’ll try okay? Maybe I can go to her.” He told him or maybe by the time the things got to him Lydia would be back in school.   
  
He paused, chest tightening. “She hasn’t come back to school since Allison died.” It wasn’t a question, and the look on Danny’s face told him he was right on the money. He really wished he wasn’t. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to process that. It hadn’t been that long, really. Barely two and a half weeks. She and Allison had been close. And if it had been different, if Scott had been the one who’d died, Stiles had a feeling it’d take him a lot longer to get back to any semblance of normal than two and a half weeks.   
  
Danny shifted in his seat. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” He wasn’t sure of anything of the sort. He’d asked Scott about it, but he hadn’t seemed all that sure either. “Can I ask why you’re trying to lojack your friends?” He inquired trying to draw the conversation away from what was obviously upsetting Stiles. They had never really been friends, but Danny didn’t _dislike_ Stiles. Honestly, he didn’t really know him outside of the fact that he was a pretty decent guy and a loyal friend.   
  
He hoped so, but he wasn’t convinced by any means. He was grateful, though, for the change of topic. “Just in case there’s trouble. I know that’s...vague but they have a tendency to get into trouble a lot. Some more than others.”   
  
Danny nodded. “Okay. Send them to me and I’ll take care of it.” He couldn’t believe he was saying that. But the guy wanted to protect his friends and Danny would do the same thing to protect-- “Jackson is one isn’t he?” He asked staring at the screen waiting for Stiles to confirm what was obviously true.   
  
Stiles leaned back in his chair a little, pursing his lips and nodding. “Yeah. He is.” His voice was quiet.   
  
Danny shook his head, “He’s so gonna hear it from me.” He told Stiles as he leaned back again and rested his hands on his knees. “So, I take it you want me to keep this conversation to myself.” He commented with a raised eyebrow.   
  
“That’d be appreciated,” he admitted, nodding. “I’m sure you’re gonna have questions though so...I’m gonna give you my number.” He paused, looking down. “No one else has it.”   
  
Danny scratched his knee, “And you want me to keep that to myself too.” He added already knowing that was the case. If Stiles wanted them to know he was keeping an eye on them he wouldn’t have called him.   
  
He gave him a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, nodding again. “Yeah.”   
  
Danny nodded. “Okay. I will.” He opened his mouth and then heard his mom yelling outside his door. He glanced at the clock and groaned. “I think that’s my que to go. I’m supposed to be packing for our holiday trip, I might have put it off for the last minute. But as soon as I get the stuff in the mail...I’ll handle it.”   
  
“Thanks, Danny,” he said sincerely, voice growing quiet once more. “Happy holidays.”   
  
Danny gave half a smile and nodded, “You too Stiles.”   
  
Stiles lifted his hand in a wave before logging off Skype and rubbing a hand over his face as he exhaled. He hadn’t expected the conversation would go quite that smoothly because when did conversations he was involved with ever go smoothly, really? He sat and stared silently at his computer for a long moment. He’d have to send Danny something nice for Christmas.   


______

  
  
**December 25**   
  
It had been a couple of weeks since Kira had last seen Derek Hale. It was probably weird that she was standing on the doorstep of his loft. The last time she’d been there, Stiles had been possessed, had been trying to goad Chris Argent into shooting him, according to what she’d heard from the others. It made her a little anxious to be standing there alone, but she’d assured Scott she could handle this.   
  
She and Derek didn’t know each other well, but she liked the older wolf, and she knew that he’d been trying to keep Scott safe, which meant a lot to her. She reached out and knocked lightly on the door.   
  
Derek had heard the footsteps outside his door, felt the presence of the young fox before she’d even knocked. A frown settled on his face as he set his book down and got up out of his chair, making his way to the door and wondering what Kira was doing at the loft. The first thing that came to mind was that something was wrong with Scott.   
  
Derek opened the door, a mild hint of concern coloring his features, “Is everything alright?” He asked immediately, “Is it Scott?”   
  
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, no. Everything’s fine,” Kira assured him quickly holding her hands up. “It’s just um, it’s Christmas Eve? And Scott and his mom were hoping we could all come over for dinner.”   
  
Derek blinked, “Christmas Eve dinner?” He repeated, a question in his tone. When Kira nodded he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Tell Scott and Ms. McCall that I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not going to be able to make it.” Derek didn’t celebrate the holidays, especially not the one the day before his birthday. No, Derek preferred to ignore the entire tradition. When people lacked an actual family to partake in a _family_ holiday it sort of killed the joy of the tradition.   
  
Her face fell instantly and she looked at the floor. “But isn’t this something that...I mean isn’t it important for a pack to bond over things like holidays?” She looked up at him again. “Especially...after everything.”   
  
Derek grimaced. He really wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. He had faced his crazy uncle, a kanima, alphas, and yet another homicidal girlfriend, but Derek actually hated when females got that look like they were going to either burst in tears or start pouting and begging. He’d rather let himself get tortured by hunters than be in the vicinity of overly emotional girls. Or overly emotional anyone for that matter. Not because he didn’t care, but because he was ill equipped to handle not being able to fix the problem.   
  
He sighed. “I don’t have gifts for anyone,” he tried not hopeful that the excuse would work, but needing one last ditch effort to be able to keep up his Christmas tradition of sitting at home and reading.   
  
“Oh!” Her face brightened immediately. “That’s okay. I don’t either. I mean, I have one for Scott, but I had no idea what to get for anyone else because...no one’s really been around since...everything that happened, happened. I don’t think gifts are a big deal. I think it’s just everyone getting together to eat. And Ms. McCall’s a really good cook. It’d mean a lot to her and to Scott if you came,” she rambled hopefully.   
  
Derek closed his eyes for a brief minute before opening them again. “Well I guess I should get my jacket then.” He said, “I’ll be right back.” He told her, leaving the door open as he walked over to the couch where he’d tossed his jacket earlier. He pulled the leather over his skin and then turned back to Kira sending her a tight smile as he grabbed the keys for his car and slipped his phone into his pocket. “All ready,” he replied trying not to sound too morose about it.   
  
She beamed at him and headed back out of the loft and toward the stairs. She just hoped that Scott had the same luck with Lydia.   


______

  
  
Lydia shifted her head on her pillow angling her body in the direction of the laptop that rested across from her, National Geographic’s Predators at War playing on her Netflix account. She was pretty sure she’d gone through her entire queue twice, which honestly was all kinds of pathetic, but Lydia didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she got a full night’s sleep, she was tired, cranky and sad.   
  
If she wanted to spend her time watching Netflix and reading every book she owned twice then that was her prerogative. She shifted again trying to get comfortable as she tuned out the documentary that she’d already seen twice. When Lydia had denounced Christmas earlier in the week refusing to celebrate her mother had made plans with friends stating that she wasn’t going to sit in the house being depressed on a holiday. Something about it not being healthy.   
  
Lydia closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She remembered last Christmas vividly. She and Allison had spent hours wrapping gifts, laughing and talking and even singing to a bunch of silly Christmas music. It was probably her favorite Christmas since she was a kid. Lydia’s chest tightened and her eyes watered. Just when she thought there couldn’t possibly be any tears left a new bout would surprise her out of left field.   
  
Lydia did her best to push the emotions aside and stop thinking about the past. But it was hard not too especially when they’d even spent some of Christmas day with Scott and Stiles. He’d given her three different things not sure which she would like more. Lydia’s lip quivered, but again she forced herself to stop. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths as she did her best to flush out the pain filling her chest so she could at least pretend to enjoy herself.   
  
No one had answered when he’d tried ringing the bell. But he could hear a heartbeat in the house and he knew instinctively that it belonged to Lydia. Which meant her mom had ditched her on Christmas Eve, apparently. Nice, he thought, jaw tightening. He moved around the house quietly and quickly until he was at her bedroom window. He could see her lying in bed watching something on her laptop. He reached up and slid the window open before crawling inside her room.   
  
“Hey,” he said quietly, moving over to the edge of her bed.   
  
Lydia glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Scott, not because he didn’t come by to visit often, he did, but because she was surprised he wasn’t with his mother. “Hi,” she responded reaching out and tapping a button on her laptop to pause the video playing. She moved, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, running her hand gently through her hair to soften it down a bit. “What are you doing here?” She asked finally her tone curious as she watched him not even wanting to know how terrible she looked at the moment, not that it mattered.   
  
She looked about as tired and nerve-wracked as he felt, but he didn’t comment on her appearance. He dropped down onto her mattress and let out a breath. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he said, hesitating.   
  
Lydia glanced down and nodded. “Yeah I know,” she responded, her voice quiet, “Which begs the question why are you here?” Lydia asked again, “You should be spending it with your mom. You shouldn’t leave her alone.” She said matter-of-factly.   
  
“And your mom shouldn’t have left _you_ alone,” he said just as firmly. He shifted slightly so he was facing her. “And since she did...I’m here to take you back to the McCall household for dinner with me and my mom and Kira and hopefully Derek.”   
  
Lydia pursed her lips, “I’m not in the mood for some big dinner Scott. Did you ever think that maybe I just want to be alone?” She asked softly. There wasn’t any anger in her tone, just resignation at the moment and maybe a bit of guilt. She knew Scott was dealing with the same things she was and it was hard for him too. Honestly Lydia had no idea how he got up every day and acted like he wasn’t dying a little inside.   
  
“I’m not either,” he admitted, meeting her eyes. “All I want is to be alone. To lay in bed and not get back up.” He looked down, closing his eyes for a few seconds then opening them again. “But I can’t do that. Because people are counting on me. Because...it’s not what she’d want, Lydia. You know it isn’t.”   
  
Lydia could see the pain in Scott’s eyes and it almost felt like she could _feel_ it. She swallowed hard and reached out to him resting a hand on his arm. “I know that,” she said her voice quiet. She took a breath and let it out slowly. Lydia was quiet for several minutes before speaking. “One night,” she told him. “I’ll come to dinner, but I’m coming back here afterwards...okay?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.   
  
Scott met her eyes again and he nodded, covering her hand with his own. “Deal,” he agreed quietly. “Thanks.” He’d been afraid she’d turn him down flat, and his mom was right. They all needed this, as difficult as it was going to be. It was a holiday, a holiday that was filled with memories of Allison and Stiles and neither of them were going to be there...but that didn’t mean they couldn’t all stick together. That they couldn’t get through it _together._   
  
Lydia nodded, “I just need a few minutes,” she told him as she pushed the laptop closed and pulled the covers away from her body. She rested a hand on his arm again and squeezed it gently as she stood moving away from him reminding herself that it was just a few hours and she could do this.   


______

  
  
Stiles was starting to rethink his plan of meeting up with his dad in Colorado. Because it was _cold_ , way colder than he’d imagined. Way colder than his skin felt, and the added cold? Wasn’t helping him feel any warmer and he shivered despite the fact that he was inside the airport, bundled in three layers of shirts and a winter coat he’d bought. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he made use of it, either. Morrell had made mention of traveling to various places, and some of those places were bound to be cold.   
  
But his mom was from Colorado. He’d never been there, and he didn’t think his dad had either. And maybe he needed something to make him feel closer to Claudia Stilinski because he felt so cut off from everyone else. He’d done that to himself, though, and he knew it.   
  
He shifted nervously from one foot to the other as he waited for his dad’s plane to finish un-boarding. God, he needed to see his dad. He’d hesitated at first before calling him from a payphone in Van Nuys. He didn’t want to pull his dad away from Melissa and Scott if he had plans with them, but in the end his selfishness had won out. He’d called, he’d arranged flights for both of them and now his heart was thundering in his chest as he waited.   
  
Michael walked down the long corridor, his overnight bag slung over his arm, an unfamiliar nervousness filling him. He didn’t understand what his problem was. It was just Stiles. He had missed his son like crazy the past three weeks and he didn’t understand why he was suddenly so nerve wrecked.   
  
He stepped out of the corridor and out the open double doors, his eyes scanning the area until they fell on Stiles. Michael froze and sucked in a sharp breath. His chest tightened, but the tension in his body disappeared the minute he saw that Stiles was really okay. Michael moved forward quickly and in just a few steps he was gripping Stiles and tugging him into a tight hug.   
  
Stiles launched himself at his dad at the same time his dad moved toward him and he hugged him just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Hey, Dad,” he whispered, burying his face against his dad’s shoulder.   
  
Michael tightened his arms around his son one hand holding the back of Stiles’ head as his heart clenched. “Hey,” he said gruffly. “You’ve got no idea how happy I am that you called,” he admitted honestly as he rubbed his other hand over Stiles’ back. Michael had been afraid that he’d lose touch with his son, but it seemed like that wasn't the case thankfully.   
  
“I missed you,” Stiles admitted, voice thick. He didn’t pull away from the embrace because he really didn’t want to. The thought of spending Christmas by himself -- because Morrell had informed him she was going to be meeting up with her brother for a couple of days -- had been almost more than he could handle. And maybe it made him weak, but he’d needed to see his dad.   
  
Michael smiled, “I missed you too, kid. More than you know.” He kept his arms around Stiles not quite ready to let go yet either. “You have no idea how quiet the house is without you,” he joked though it was true. He’d been working extra hours and then heading to the McCall house when he could. Michael was barely home anymore, pretty much just to sleep.   
  
A short chuckle escaped him involuntarily and he had to hold his breath immediately after because his eyes stung with hot tears and he had to close them tightly to keep them from falling and he was terrified the next sound he made would be a sob. That would be pretty awful. He gave himself a moment to get it together before pulling away to look at his dad. “What have you been eating?”   
  
Michael rolled his eyes. “Food,” he said with a grin, “What about you?” He stepped back and took his son in, but he couldn’t really tell if he looked a lot better than when he left because his body was covered in heavy clothes. “Tell me you put on some weight. You look a little better than before.” He commented.   
  
“You know what I mean,” Stiles said, giving him a look and holding his breath as his dad’s gaze studied him critically. He was glad that his color had come back. He’d put back on a couple of pounds, but he still had a ways to go. “Yeah, I have.” He nodded. He was still cold, like he’d literally lost part of his life force or something, but he wasn’t going to point that out. He was just glad he wasn’t shivering at the moment.   
  
Michael patted him on the back, “Good, let’s get the hell out of this airport and get inside. It’s cold here,” he commented as he shifted his bag on his shoulder and stepped forward until he could comfortably put an arm around Stiles’ shoulder.   
  
“I rented us a cabin,” he told his dad as he led him toward the baggage claim. He just hoped they could make it up there with all the snow.   
  
Michael sent his son a look, “Are where exactly are you getting all this money from?” He asked with a sideways glance and a raised brow at his son. He knew he probably shouldn’t question it, but he couldn’t help it.   
  
Stiles faltered for only a moment before admitting, “My savings account.” He shrugged.   
  
Michael frowned, “That’s a savings account for a reason,” he lectured his son briefly as they walked together towards the exit. He let the subject drop quickly though because he didn’t want to spend his time with his son arguing. “How have you been? Melissa says hi,” he added.   
  
He was glad when his dad let it drop. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that college was likely going to be out of the cards for him at this point. “I’m…” He hesitated a moment, glancing at him sideways. “Working on it.” He bit his lower lip. “How is she?”   
  
Michael gave a half hearted shrug as his chest tightened again at Stiles’ words. “She’s doing alright. She said she was going to try and get everyone together for the holiday...I’m sure she will,” he commented knowing if anyone could do it, it was Melissa.   
  
“Good. That’s good,” he said quietly, looking down at the floor as they walked. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Have you asked her out yet?” He couldn’t help but ask.   
  
Michael rolled his eyes at his son’s question, but there was a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said good humor in his voice. “I might have, or maybe I’m waiting for a good opportunity to present itself.” He told him.   
  
Stiles couldn’t help but smile at his dad’s response, because yes. He definitely wanted to know. “I think you haven’t yet,” he said matter-of-factly.   
  
Michael’s grin widened, “We saw a movie last Friday,” he said glancing at Stiles. “Just one date.” He added reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “But, we see each other almost every day.” He wasn’t sure how to go about asking her out again especially with things still so up in the air at home. None of the kids were okay and getting them back on track was both their priorities. But he didn’t dare tell Stiles that.   
  
Stiles looked at his dad, eyes widening. “Yeah?” That sounded promising. Something good on the horizon for his dad and Melissa at least. Or that was his hope anyway. God he hoped so.   
  
Michael nodded. “We had a nice time, saw some romantic comedy, ate popcorn. It was nice a break,” he admitted as they stepped outside, a slight shiver sliding down his spine at the cool air. “We catching a bus or something?” He asked glancing at his son not really caring as long as they got to spend time together.   
  
Relief washed over him. He’d been hoping for awhile that his dad would ask Melissa out -- for more reasons than one. The first being he knew his dad _liked_ her, and second being, Rafael McCall was a massive bag of dicks who didn’t deserve Melissa _or_ Scott. “Nope,” he told him, leading him toward the parking lot and pulling a set of keys out of his coat pocket. “Rented a car, too.” He held the keys out to his dad.   
  
Michael shook his head and sighed, “Too much money being spent,” he said the words lightly as he followed Stiles to the car taking the keys from his hand and using the keyless entry to pop the doors open so he could toss his bag in the backseat. He closed the door and then walked around to the front glancing over at Stiles, “You’ve got directions right?”   
  
“Yeah. I printed them off Google Maps,” he told his dad, pulling out two crumpled pieces of paper from his pocket, as well and handing them over, too.   
  
Michael reached out and took them letting out a long breath, the puff of white smoke leaving his mouth signaling just how cold it was outside. He stood there for a minute and then reached out suddenly resting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m really glad we’re here...that you called.” He told his son quietly. He really had missed Stiles and he hated that it had been three weeks since he’d seen him.   
  
Stiles held his breath when his dad reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He felt his stomach twist into the old familiar knot of guilt and then he nodded slightly. “Me too, Dad,” he whispered. “Me too.”   
  
Michael swallowed heavily and nodded. He dropped his hand and smiled warmly, “Well let’s get on the road then,” he commented before patting Stiles’ back and heading for the driver’s side door.   


______

  
  
Lydia held the mug of hot chocolate tightly in her hand as she moved through the festively decorated house, Christmas music pouring softly through the rooms. She heard the sound of Kira’s laugh as she made her way to the McCall’s back porch, opening the door and stepping outside into the cool night air.   
  
Lydia closed the door quietly behind her and let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. She stood there for a minute taking in the solitude. Her heart clenched and she glanced down at her cup. They had finished dinner about twenty minutes ago and everyone was talking and hanging out. And Lydia could admit that while it was nice to not be by herself. But right now she needed a break alone with her thoughts for a few minutes.   
  
She brushed a hand down the simple red, cotton dress she wore. Scott had waited while she showered quickly and changed so she didn’t look like a total mess, despite his protests that she hadn’t. Lydia had forgone most of the makeup and swept some of her hair into a clip. Simple, easy. She had smiled at all the right moments, made conversation and tried to keep up with Kira’s enthusiastic rambling, which wasn’t easy.   
  
But she made Scott smile and the pain Lydia had started feeling from him wasn’t as bad when Kira was around and she was glad for that. She was glad Scott had someone by his side. Guilt poked at her chest. Lydia knew she hadn’t exactly been there for Scott lately. She should be helping him through this, but she didn’t know how. She could barely help herself through it. Just waking up every day and remembering Allison was dead and Stiles was gone killed her inside.   
  
She shifted walking down one of the steps on the back porch and then sitting down on the top stair, resting her mug beside her. A slight chill fell over her skin and she rested her hands on her bent knees, trying to force the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes to go away. God she missed Allison...and what was worse the only thing she wanted at the moment was Stiles. And he was...well Lydia didn’t know where he was. No one did.   
  
Derek sat down beside her, a few inches of space between them as he looked out over the McCall’s backyard, hands resting on his legs. He glanced at her sideways but remained silent for a long moment. “It was a nice dinner,” he said finally. He and Lydia had barely spoken in the time they’d known one another, but that seemed as good a conversation starter as any.   
  
Lydia blinked and turned her head wondering how she’d been distracted enough to not even notice Derek sitting beside her. _Amazing survival skills Martin_ , she scolded herself internally. “It was.” she commented her hands gripping her knees tightly as she looked away from him. Lydia had never really had much contact with Derek. She knew about his family because well the whole town knew about the Hale house fire.   
  
But she’d only spoken to him a few times and most of those times, either he was trying to kill her, she was knocking him unconscious, or he was accusing her of something. She supposed she couldn’t really blame him for that. Lydia had used him to bring his uncle back to life even if that technically wasn’t her fault. “What are you doing out here?” She finally asked when it had been quiet for several minutes.   
  
“Needed some air,” he explained, pursing his lips and shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t play well with others for long periods of time.” There was a hint of wryness in his voice.   
  
Lydia’s lip twitched at the corner, but she didn’t smile. “Yes well, apparently you’re not the only one.” She commented as she reached on the other side of her and lifted her mug of hot chocolate resting it on her legs for its warmth and so she had something to do with her hands.   
  
“Then I guess we’re two of a kind,” Derek responded, glancing at her sideways for a moment. “This isn’t how I anticipated spending Christmas Eve.”   
  
Lydia snorted lightly. “Yeah well, you can join the club.” Her words were quiet despite the snark. “Scott is difficult to say no to even when you _really_ want to.” Lydia paused chancing a glance at Derek. “What--what do you usually do?”   
  
He smirked at that, shaking his head. “So is Kira,” he informed her. He sat back a little, looking up at the sky. “I was planning to stay in and read a book. You?”   
  
Lydia opened her mouth and then closed it swallowing hard. Usually she spent it with friends and her family, but with Allison gone...“I was watching a documentary,” she admitted, “Predators at war.” She said shaking her head. “Because there aren’t enough predators in my life apparently,” she joked, though her tone was dull. Lydia brought the mug to her lips and took a small sip.   
  
“That’s an interesting documentary,” he commented. Her tone didn’t escape him. Lydia was miserable and he didn’t have to be a werewolf to pick up on it. She wasn’t the only one. He knew that Scott was struggling to deal with things, as well. He was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure that he’s okay. For what that’s worth.”   
  
Lydia’s gaze darted to Derek, her heartbeat picking up speed slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said immediately and looked away from him. Lydia tapped against her mug. “Thank you, though.” She said a couple of minutes later. “And just so you know you don’t have to sit here with me...I’m fine. I’m used to being by myself so if you want to go back inside I’m good.” Lydia told him sending him a tight smile, which was probably more of a grimace before looking back at her mug. Smiling had been a rare thing for her lately, which was unlike her.   
  
He paused, then nodded, letting it go. He wasn’t going to talk about Stiles if she didn’t want to. “It’s quieter out here,” he said with a shrug. “But I can go if you’d rather be alone.”   
  
Lydia considered his words. She was _always_ alone. And even though lately that was mostly her own fault she was also really tired of being alone. She missed Allison and she missed Stiles. Lydia’s grip tightened on her mug. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” She said and for once that was the truth.   
  
Derek simply smiled and nodded, letting a comfortable silence fall between them.   
  
Inside Kira smiled as she watched Scott shake some of the presents under the tree. She was glad he seemed to at least be trying to have a good time. She knew how hard things were for him. Well, she did and she didn’t. Kira knew she wasn’t as close to Allison as they all were, but a part of her still felt responsible for everything bad that had happened because of her mom.   
  
Kira shook the thoughts away and walked over to the couch before sitting down. She glanced towards the other room where she heard some soft noises. “What do you think your mom is   
  
He sniffed the air at Kira’s question. “She’s baking,” he explained. “Sugar cookies. It’s...sort of a tradition.” He turned so he was facing her. “When I was younger she’d make them and she’d have Stiles and I decorate them with icing and candy.” He smiled a little.   
  
Kira returned his smile. “That sounds like a really nice tradition.” She shifted on the couch and patted the spot beside her. “What other traditions do you have,” her eyes widened slightly, “I mean if you don’t mind telling me because you don’t have to.” She told him quickly feeling her cheeks heat. Maybe asking Scott to talk about traditions was too much with everything going on. Kira didn’t want to upset him.   
  
“No, it’s fine,” he assured her, eyes full of warmth even if his smile was sad. “Normally we decorate the tree the day after Thanksgiving.” Stiles usually lounged on the couch and supervised while eating popcorn and telling Scott where to hang bulbs and ornaments. “We usually open one package on Christmas Eve. Something small. Sometimes it’s a joke gift.”   
  
Kira felt terrible for Scott. He always seemed to take things in stride and she honestly didn’t know how he did it. She glanced at the tree and smiled, “It looks great by the way.” Her gaze fell back to him as she shifted on the couch again. “We’ve never had a real tree for Christmas I don’t think. It’s always been the fake one,” she admitted while leaning forward. “Maybe when your mom is done baking we can still do those things, like the decorating and the presents,” she offered with a shy grin.   
  
“I’d like that,” he said quietly, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm. He was quiet for a moment. “What about your family traditions though? I mean, aside from a fake tree.” He smiled a little.   
  
Kira placed her hand over his giving it a light squeeze. “My father is usually the one who does the cooking and baking. We’re big on gingerbread men,” she told him with a grin. “And we make a house too. But outside of that and maybe playing Christmas music we don’t do too much.” Kira spent last Christmas Eve with friends. “A lot of years when I was younger we went out of the country to visit family.”   
  
“Oh, I like gingerbread.” Scott smiled, eyes brightening a little. “I’ve never made a gingerbread house though. How do you even make a gingerbread house?”   
  
Kira’s smile widened when she saw the look in his eyes. She lifted her legs up onto the couch angling her body in his direction, “It’s actually really fun. You can do it from scratch, but my dad and I usually buy these gingerbread house kits from the store and it kind of gives you a step-by-step guide on how to make the walls and then you use frosting to put it together and frosting to stick on all the candy,” Kira responded with a short laugh.   
  
“It’s neat and the best part is eating it after,” She told him brightly. “We’ll have to make one over Christmas break,” she paused and ducked her head down pushing some hair behind her ears. “If you want,” she added sheepishly.   
  
“Trying it from scratch might be fun. A challenge.” He grinned, too, unable to help it. “Maybe we could try it both ways. One from a kit and one from scratch,” he suggested, arching his eyebrows. “I definitely want to try.”   
  
Kira glanced up her smile warm, “I’d really like that.” She said enthusiastically. “If you have time we can go to the store later in the week, pick stuff up, maybe make a day out of it.” She knew he was busy trying to get things back on track with the pack so Kira didn’t want to push.   
  
He had been busy trying to get things back on track, but truthfully...Scott needed a break, however short. And doing something silly like making gingerbread houses sounded like a good break to him. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot, too,” he agreed, meeting her eyes.   
  
Kira held his gaze for a minute and then glanced down, smile on her face. “Great, it’s a plan.” She didn’t dare say date, not wanting him to think she was pushing him into anything he wasn’t ready for.   
  
“Cookies are done!” Melissa called out from the other room.   
  
Scott glanced toward the kitchen, then back at Kira, rising to his feet and holding his hand out to her. “Come on.” His voice was soft.   
  
Kira glanced at Scott’s hand and then reached out taking it and letting him pull her up off the couch. “I’m probably more excited than I should be about decorating cookies,” she admitted with a grin as they started walked through the living room to get to the dining room.   
  
“Well, it’s a good way to be artistic. Also they taste good.” He chuckled lightly as they paused in the entrance to the dining room.   
  
Kira nodded in agreement.   
  
Melissa glanced up and smiled at Kira and Scott who were standing right right in the entrance beneath a sprig of mistletoe. She pointed up. “It’s a sign,” she joked motioning towards the mistletoe hanging above their heads.   
  
Scott looked up when his mom pointed and was relieved to see it was just _fake_ mistletoe. He shifted his gaze to Kira, a small, shy smile touching his mouth. “It is tradition,” he said lightly.   
  
Kira returned the shy smile, “I wouldn’t want to mess with tradition, who knows what would happen,” she said lightly, a hint of anticipation in her voice.   
  
Scott leaned in closer and pressed a tender kiss against her cheek. “Merry Christmas.”   
  
Kira closed her eyes briefly, letting them flutter open when she felt Scott move away. She swallowed heavily and sent him a bright smile. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly as she squeezed his hand gently. “Ready to decorate some cookies?” Kira asked warmth in her voice.   
  
“Yeah. I am.” He laced his fingers through hers, giving her hand a light squeeze and letting her lead the way into the kitchen.   


______

  
  
Michael watched his son at the small sink in the kitchen of the cabin he’d rented, washing the dishes from their Christmas Eve dinner. It seemed Stiles had planned things out meticulously, not that he was surprised. His son tended to do that on occasion. Dinner was amazing, he’d eaten a little bit of everything and he finally got to spend some much needed time with Stiles.   
  
There was soft music playing in the background and a fire roaring in the fireplace. It was cozy. Michael just wished they were back home with the rest of their family. He pushed away from the doorframe and stepped into the small kitchen, “Why don’t I dry?” He offered grabbing a towel and starting on the dishes that Stiles had already piled up beside the sink. “Dinner was good, thanks for going through all that trouble.” He said with half a smile.   
  
He glanced at his dad sideways, nodding in agreement and watching as he started to dry the dishes. “I’m glad you liked everything.” He’d gone to a lot of work to fix every single food that his dad loved and was allowed to have on holidays. It was the most he himself had eaten in a long, long time. And while he was glad to be spending Christmas with his dad, his chest was already painfully tight at the thought of what would happen in a couple more days. His dad would go back to Beacon Hills. Back to Melissa and Scott and everyone.   
  
And Stiles would go back to Van Nuys. Because it was what he had to do.   
  
Stiles was unusually quiet and Michael got the feeling he had a lot on his mind. “How are you doing?” He asked as he placed a plate on a pile of dry ones and picked up a cup, “And I mean really. It’s been three weeks. What have you been up to?” Michael asked keeping his voice calm despite the urgency to know the answers to his questions. He didn’t want to ruin this vacation, but he couldn’t help worrying about his son being all alone far from home.   
  
“I’m…” He hesitated for a long moment, staring down at the dishwater as he scrubbed at the macaroni and cheese pan. “Working on it,” he said quietly. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, turning his head to look at his dad. “I miss everyone. But I feel like the space is helping me clear my head.”   
  
Michael pursed his lips and nodded as he rubbed harder at the cup before putting it down. “That’s good, as much as I hate not having you at home I do want you to be able to have your time, we miss you too though. All of us.” He stressed. “Do you have any idea when you’ll be coming back home? I called the school and explained the situation as best I could, but they’ll probably look into things further if you’re gone too long.” He said lightly. Michael didn’t want to rush him, but he still didn’t think being away from the family was the greatest idea.   
  
He was glad that his dad was being so understanding. Because honestly he didn’t understand _why_ he was in the first place. Not after everything that he’d done. He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he admitted softly. “Is that okay? I don’t want to get you into any trouble because I’m a truant.”   
  
Michael nodded, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He said as he set the last cup down and then dropped the towel on the counter before turning and leaning back against it. “So, where have you been staying? How do you spend your time...Do you need anything from back home?” It was a lot of questions, but if Stiles wasn’t coming home then the least Michael could do was make sure he had everything he needed.   
  
Stiles set the last pan in the dish drainer and turned to face his dad. “Just a motel,” he said honestly. “And mostly I’ve just been resting. And doing some reading.” It was pretty much the truth. He wasn’t physically well enough to do much beyond that yet according to Morrell, even if he was stronger than he had been three weeks ago. “I’m okay though. I mean, I don’t need anything.”   
  
“As long as you’re sure,” Michael responded. He was silent for a minute. He had a lot of questions, but for the moment he was going to push them aside and just spend some time with Stiles while he could. He cleared his throat, “So, I’ve got some stuff for you, why don’t you go check on the fire and I’ll go grab the gifts?” he asked with a smile while reaching out and squeezing Stiles’ shoulder lightly.   
  
Stiles nodded at that. “I’ve got some stuff for you, too.” He gave his dad a quick hug before heading toward the fireplace.   
  
Michael made his way to the bedroom he was staying in and walked over to his bag. He stood there for a minute, took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly before unzipping the bag and reaching inside. Melissa had given him a gift for Stiles and she’d taken the card Scott got him and given that to him as well even though Michael wasn’t even sure if Melissa had told Scott where he’d gone.   
  
He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face and then grabbed the two presents and the car before making his way out of the room and back towards the living room where Michael knew Stiles was waiting.   
  
Stiles sat down on the floor by the fire, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth from the crackling flames. It was the warmest he’d been in awhile. He opened his eyes once more and looked over to the small tree in the corner, decorated with simple twinkling lights and a few glass bulbs he’d found at Wal-Mart that he’d bought solely for his dad’s benefit.   
  
His gaze shifted to the gift-wrapped packages beneath its branches. One was for his dad, one for Melissa, one for Scott and one for Lydia. He glanced up when he heard his dad’s footsteps approaching and he smiled faintly at him.   
  
Michael returned the smile and sat down on the chair beside Stiles. “It’s cute,” he said nodding towards the tree. It was nice that Stiles had thought of it. It seemed like his son had thought of everything. He held out one of the packages, glancing down at the green paper with a red bow. “This one’s from Melissa. She misses you and told me to tell you that you better get your butt home soon and she better be your first stop.” He said, a small grin pulling at his lips.   
  
Stiles nodded slightly at his comment, glad he’d gotten a tree after all. He bit down on his lower lip as he carefully unwrapped the neatly wrapped package and paused at the sight of a thick, heavy photograph album that now sat in his lap. He hesitated a second before flipping the cover open. He was immediately greeted by the sight of a picture of his four year old self with Scott’s four year old self curled up together asleep.   
  
Michael smiled, “You guys were cute,” he told him nodding to the picture. “Melissa was always really good at capturing moments.” After Claudia died, Michael had lost his way a bit, but Melissa had been amazing. She’s helped whenever they needed it and she made sure that even when he wasn’t around he never missed the important moments in his son’s life.   
  
“Yeah, she was,” Stiles agreed softly, holding his breath for a moment before flipping the page to a picture of Melissa and Claudia holding Scott and him on their laps. “I don’t really remember this,” he admitted, glancing up at his dad.   
  
Michael glanced at the picture and smiled. “That was a good day,” he said quietly, swallowing hard. “We all went to an amusement park and when we got back it was late so Melissa and Scott spent the night in the spare room. But the day was fun. Lots of walking, rides and games. I’m not surprised you don’t remember though, Scot probably doesn’t either. You guys were younger and we always did a lot.” He offered.   
  
Michael kept his eyes on the picture his chest tightening slightly. Sometimes he wondered if Claudia would approve of him and Melissa. They’d been friends and Michael liked to think that hopefully she’d be happy for him.   
  
He nodded slightly, staring at the picture for a long moment before looking back at his dad. “It sounds like it would have been a lot of fun,” he said quietly before glancing at the next picture, this one of the two of them. He was on his dad’s shoulders and wearing his dad’s sheriff’s badge on his shirt. “I remember seeing this one before.”   
  
A small grin broke out on Michael’s face. “That was when you went through your wanting to do everything I did, phase,” he teased lightly. “I made toast, you tried to make toast. I shaved, you wanted to shave. I kissed you mom, you kissed your mom,” he shook his head at the memories. “You’d run around the house with that badge pinned to your clothes chasing bad guys.”   
  
He couldn’t help but smile at that, nodding and rubbing at his neck. “Yeah that lasted for quite awhile.” Until Claudia Stilinski had gotten sick when he was six, in fact.   
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “This was really great of Melissa,” he repeated his earlier statement. “She’s pretty amazing.” He added glancing down at his hands. He’d thought so for a while, but he’d always sort of skirted around his feelings until Stiles left, making a move at the insistence of his own son.   
  
Stiles chewed his lower lip and glanced at his dad sideways, nodding and watching him for a moment. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed quietly. “I’m glad things are going well.”   
  
Michael glanced over at Stiles and nodded, “Just one date,” he reminded him, “But with any luck there will be more. Unless she gets tired of me.” He joked before leaning back in the chair. “Scott seems to be happy about it,” Michael commented, “I’m glad you’re both taking it so well.”   
  
“She won’t,” Stiles assured him, reaching out and squeezing his dad’s arm. He smiled faintly at the mention of Scott’s reaction, nodding just a little and exhaling. “We use to talk about you guys getting married and we’d end up having bunk beds and stay up all night talking and playing video games and watching scary movies.”   
  
Michael arched an eyebrow and chuckled, “So you two are planning everything out for us then huh?” He said with a grin. “Good to know.” He shrugged one shoulder, “Besides you never know what can happen,” he said lightly, “Though I think you’re both a bit old for bunk beds now.” Michael joked.   
  
“Well, yeah, now,” Stiles agreed with a short chuckle. “But we weren’t when we were twelve and talking about it.”   
  
Surprise crossed Michael’s face, “That long huh?” He leaned forward and scratched the back of his neck. “Have you talked to Scott at all?”   
  
He looked away instantly, pained expression on his face as he shook his head. “No,” he admitted almost inaudibly. God he wanted to talk to Scott. And Lydia. He missed both of them so much and it had only been three weeks. How was he going to be able to do this without talking to them? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to for their sake. He exhaled slowly. “How’s everyone else? Isaac and Derek and...Lydia?”   
  
Michael studied his son’s face for a moment, taking in the pain there and his chest tightened. He reached out and rested a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Isaac is still in France with Chris Argent,” he explained, “They haven’t made their way back to Beacon Hills yet, though I’m sure they will soon.” He considered how to answer about Lydia before speaking. “I don’t see too much of Derek,” Michael admitted, “But Melissa told me she sent Kira to grab Derek for Christmas Eve dinner at the house.”   
  
He squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. “And I believe she said Scott invited Lydia over so no one was alone for the holidays.” Michael wasn’t sure if either had shown up because he hadn’t talked to Melissa since landing in Colorado, but he really hoped they did. No one should be alone for the holidays.   
  
Stiles let out a breath when his dad put a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned back against the sofa from his position on the floor. He wasn’t surprised to hear about Isaac taking off for France with Chris, even if once upon a time it seemed like the most bizarre combination of people ever to be spending copious amounts of time together.   
  
“Good,” he said softly, feeling guilty that his dad wasn’t back home with Melissa and Scott and everyone, where he belonged. He wasn’t going to be able to have another moment of weakness like this one in the future. He wasn’t going to be able to just break down and call his dad and ask him to fly somewhere to meet with Stiles whenever Stiles was feeling depressed or alone or anything else. His dad had his own life. Or he was trying to anyway.   
  
Michael could see how much being away hurt Stiles and he wished his son would just come back home. But he wasn’t going to push. “Hey, you didn’t open my gift.” He said with half a smile not wanting to dwell on the things upsetting Stiles. They were there to have a good time.   
  
“And you haven’t opened mine either,” Stiles said with a nod, reaching out and picking up the wide flat box from under the tree and handing it to his dad even as he picked up the smaller package from his dad to him. “Same time?” he suggested, arching his eyebrows.   
  
Michael took the package carefully; it was slightly heavier than he’d anticipated. But he nodded, “Same time.” He agreed.   
  
He smiled a little and counted to three before tearing the paper off the box in his hands and grinning more brightly when he saw a brand new iPod inside, several _iTunes_ gift cards taped to the bottom of it. “Awesome. Thank you.” He waited for his dad to finish opening his own gift.   
  
Michael smiled as he rested the gift on his lap and spoke as he unwrapped the gift, “I figured you could use some music wherever you’re staying.” He told Stiles as he glanced down the paper finally gone. He stared at the gift and then looked at his son. “Wow, this-this is great.” He turned the laptop box carefully over in his hands. “This is too much,” he said brows furrowing as he looked back at Stiles.   
  
“Yeah, I definitely can.” Maybe it would even help him sleep. At least he hoped it would. He shook his head at his dad’s words, though. “No, I’m gonna -- before you head back, I’m gonna set it up with Skype so we can talk. It’s like a video and chat program. Scott and I used it a lot,” he explained.   
  
Realization hit him and he smiled, “Well then I think that’s a great idea.” Anything that kept him in contact with Stiles was a good thing. He leaned over bending down slightly and pulled his son into a hug with one arm. “Thanks,” he said quietly.   
  
“You’re welcome,” Stiles said just as quietly, hugging him tightly. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”   
  
Michael smiled patting Stiles’ back gently, “Merry Christmas, son.”


End file.
